Hand in Hand
by Savannah-Vee
Summary: Just a quick little drabbly thing I wrote for OnTheTurningAway's birthday. I just thought I'd put it here for others to read. I'll put the link to her birthday blog on my profile page. SLASH. Edward/Riley.


**Happy Birthday On The Turning Away!**

**You are lovely, and leave the most fuckawesome reviews. Here's a little something for you for your birthday, just to say thank you. It's sort of a series of little drabbles that are connected. Edward/Riley. And because I'm an Angst h00r, it's err, a little angsty. Lol. Hope you like!**

**Savannah-Vee**

**xxx**

* * *

I pushed him back gently by his shoulders, my lips still lightly brushing against his as I smirked.

"Mmmm, Eager much?" I mumbled.

He pushed his mouth against mine more vigorously, violently even, catching me by surprise so the back of my head smacked against the cool bricks.

"Fuck Riley, that hurt like a bitch," I hissed into his mouth.

"Sorry," he mumbled, never once stopping his heated movements over my lips. He caught my bottom lip between his own and sucked.

Hard.

"Ow!"

I pushed him back again, holding him at arm's length as I stared into his dark eyes.

"Jesus, what's wrong with you?"

His eyes left mine and darted to the ground, and he sucked on his full, red bottom lip. Fuck, _I _wanted to suck on that lip, but there was something up with him, something wrong.

"Riley?" I pressed.

He shrugged out of my grasp, and took a step back away from me.

"Nothing's wrong with me." His eyes met mine again. "I just fucking missed you."

I grinned.

"Yeah, I missed you too," I said, stepping towards him, my hands reaching out for his face. "But there's no need to rip my fucking lip off dude."

I snickered, tilting his chin up towards me so he could look at me.

But his eyes refused to meet mine.

I sighed.

"C'mon man, don't fucking start that shit."

His eyes snapped to mine at that, and they smoldered with anger. "I'm not starting anything, E. I'm just… fucking _sick _of this." His arms flailed wildly around us, punctuating the 'this'.

I sighed again and let go of him, shoving my hands in the pockets of my jeans. Why did he insist on doing this? Why did he insist on fucking up our little time together?

"I don't wanna have to miss you. I don't wanna have to hide out in fucking… _alleyways_," – his arms flailed again – "and dark cinemas, or wait until no one's home at your place before I can kiss you, before I can _touch _you, the way I want to."

I groaned in frustration, taking one hand out of my pocket to rub at my forehead. We had this conversation a thousand times. How many fucking times did I have to tell him I wasn't ready? How many fucking times did I have to tell him that coming out was gonna be way harder for me than it was for him? How many fucking times did I have to ask him to be patient?

I didn't say anything.

"I've _been _patient, Edward," he said, as if reading my thoughts. "If six fucking months of this bullshit isn't patient then fuck knows what is. But I'm sick of it now. Of course, it's gonna be hard to come out, of course you're worried about it, I get it –"

"No, Riley," I snapped. "No, you don't get it. You don't fucking _get it _at all." I pulled out my pack of cigarettes and held it in a fist. I wanted a smoke now, needed one, but he didn't like me smoking so I tried not to do it around him.

He stared at me for a long moment, but I refused to look at him now. Instead, my gaze dropped to the cigarettes in my hand. I was holding the pack so tight I was probably crushing a few.

"I'm sorry."

My mouth curved down in a scowl. "What have you got to be sorry for? It's not your fault my dad's a raving homophobe."

We stood silently, opposite each other now, each leaning against the wall of the two buildings we were hiding between.

Yes, I hated having to do this shit too. I hated not being able to touch him too, hated not being able to kiss him whenever I got the urge to, hated having to hide out like criminals whenever we wanted to, but this was the way it had to be done for now. Just the _thought _of coming out to my parents, coming out to my _dad, _had my stomach churning. There was no way he'd accept me, no way he'd want anything to do with me if he ever found out, and honestly, I couldn't deal with that. Not yet.

Riley had already come out to his parents, and I fucking envied him because they took it so well. They took it how parents _should _take it: supportive and happy for him, no matter what his sexuality.

I knew for a fact that it wouldn't be like that with my parents.

My mom would probably _want_ to be like that, but my dad would probably disown her too if she did. She was scared of him, scared of losing the bastard – just like I was.

I sighed deeply after a long, awkward pause.

"Well, I'm gonna go now, ok?"

He looked away from me, his jaw set, his jaw line hard, and shrugged. "Whatever, Edward, do what the fuck you want."

/\

"I love you."

I froze.

Lifted my head up from between his thighs to look at him.

Stared into his dark, hooded eyes.

"What?"

"I said I love you."

I smirked. "What, my head game is that good, huh?"

He snickered. "Yeah, it is. But that's not why I'm saying it." His hand ran through my hair, brushing it back from my forehead. His expression turned serious again as he murmured, "I love you, E."

I had to stand up, because his cock still standing erect just inches away from my lips was fucking distracting.

"What?"

Now, because I was standing and he was still sitting on the edge of the bed, his face was level with my cock, which was straining through my jeans.

His eyes shifted to my crotch.

I moved to sit beside him on the bed.

He grinned, reaching out to cup my face. "Dude, seriously, I really don't wanna say it again."

I grinned back. "But I didn't hear you. Say it again."

"I love you," he mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Fuck, Edward," he said with a smirk. "I love you."

Then he grabbed the front of my shirt with his other hand and pulled me to him, pressing his full lips against mine. He kissed me feverishly, his soft tongue meeting mine, stroking it roughly.

I'd told him I loved him about a month ago, and back then he hadn't be able to return my sentiment, and honestly, that had really fucking hurt. I tried not to show it though.

"So… what made you… what made you change… your mind?" I choked out in between breathless kisses.

"About what?"

"About… loving me."

He paused, though his lips remained softly on mine.

"I didn't change my mind," he whispered, panting. "I just realized I felt the same."

And then he was attacking my lips again, his fingers tugging sharply at my hair.

/\

I placed the cigarette between my lips and inhaled as if my life depended on it, which was pretty fucking ironic, you know, seeing as smoking kills an all.

Riley just stared at me – at my mouth.

"You know, it's a shame smoking's such a disgusting habit. You look fuckhot when you do it."

I grinned – but it was strained. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

We stood on my front porch in silence for a long while before he said, "E, it'll be ok. I mean, even if your dad's an ass about it, we're going to college now, right? We don't ever have to come back to Forks if we don't want to."

I inhaled and exhaled deeply, blowing out the smoke at my feet.

He just didn't understand. I didn't _want _to go away to college and never come back to visit my parents. I _cared _if my dad was an ass about it.

But all I said was, "I guess."

The cigarette was utterly spent now, right down to the filter, but still I held it between my fingers. I was stalling, and we both knew it.

"Edward."

"What?"

"The cigarette's done, man."

"Oh. Oh right." I cleared my throat, dropped the butt at my feet and stomped it out.

"You wanna go inside now?"

_No, I really don't. _"Sure, let's go."

He reached his hand out to me, and I hesitated briefly before taking it.

His fingers wrapped around mine and he squeezed.

"Hey," he said. "I love you."

And those three little words were more reassuring than anything else he had said or done. I was scared stiff about coming out to my family, to my father, but I knew that whatever happened with that, whatever their reaction, I still had him.

And I wouldn't have to hide it anymore.

I grinned, squeezing his hand in return. "I love you too, man."

And then we walked into my house, to face the potential wrath of my dad – hand in hand.

/\


End file.
